


This Cold Night

by ShipMistress



Series: Hiccstrid One-Shots [8]
Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Two lovers desperate to see each other, a snowstorm, and an old promise to a friend, unexpected company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 08:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15681606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipMistress/pseuds/ShipMistress
Summary: AU. Hiccup would take any risk to see his beloved Astrid tonight. But maybe, with that snowstorm coming, he was pushing his luck too much.





	This Cold Night

 

“So, you’re going? _Again?_ ”

The voice coming from the doorway to the little chamber he shared with his fellow junior millers didn’t surprise Hiccup, not really. In fact he’d expected nothing else. “Yes,” he replied simply as he picked up his coat and threw it around his shoulders. Then he straightened and turned to look at his friends.

There was no hint of surprise on their faces either. Fishlegs looked anxious, worry for his friend clear on his face, but that wasn’t anything new. “What if her father ever catches you? He'd break you in half just for getting close to his precious daughter!”

“Maybe,” Hiccup replied with a small smile. He doubted that the man was actually against a union between him and his daughter, but he wouldn’t let that slip. So far, he hadn’t told anyone about Master Hofferson’s apprenticeship offer, and he intended to keep it that way. “But that’s why I'm going tonight. He's going to be away for a day or two, off to the market in town to deliver some goods. We'll be safe.” Right from the beginning, Fishlegs had been against this secret relationship, so by now Hiccup was used to his friend’s worries.

But Snotlout didn’t look happy either, and that _was_ new. “You know, coz, usually I’m totally behind you in this. Odin, that girl looks amazing! I’d definitely hit on her myself, but since you’re family I won’t.”

“Yeah, and the fact that she threatened you with a knife last time you tried is surely of no importance,” Hiccup replied dryly.

“But seriously, you shouldn't go tonight,” Snot went on, unperturbed. “There's a nasty storm coming, some elders were even talking about snow. You'll freeze to death before you even reach her.”

Sighing, Hiccup rolled his eyes. “I'm touched by your concern, Snot. Really. But it's only five miles to Hofferson’s forge. Hardly enough to _freeze to death_ , even if those old fishwives are right and there'll be a bit snow tonight. I won't miss this chance to see her.”

“Your decision… But keep in mind, if the storm gets you, I’ll happily… _‘comfort_ ’ her over your death.”

Shaking his head in something between annoyance and amusement, Hiccup pushed passed the two men. “Lovesick fool,” he heard Snotlout mutter, but didn't bother to react. His cousin was right, after all. Hiccup loved Astrid, the blacksmith’s daughter, and no amount of well-meant advice or warning would ever keep him away from her. Even just holding her while they slept was worth every journey.

Feeling light with the prospect of spending the night with his beloved, Hiccup sneaked out the backdoor of Jorgenson’s mill. There were indeed dark clouds closing in and a few minutes later a handful of scattered snowflakes flew around him. But even that couldn't dampen his mood as he got on his way.

**. o O o .**

Half an hour later, Hiccup had to admit that staying at the mill would have been the wiser choice.

Within only minutes, the _handful of scattered snowflakes_ had suddenly turned into a solid snowstorm, and the wind was biting through his too-thin clothes without mercy. Being out in a storm like this was pure insanity, Hiccup knew that. All that kept him going was the knowledge that the way back was just as long as the way ahead. As soon as he reached the forge, he would quickly warm up again; at the fire, with a bowl of hot broth, and with Astrid’s warm body in his arms.

On and on he went through the ever-growing storm. The wind became stronger, the air icy. Before long, his teeth were chattering, and his thin cloak, usually enough for this time of year, was not sufficient to keep the cold at bay. He became slower, every step harder than the one before as his one good leg became heavier with every minute. The prosthetic that had replaced the leg he’d lost to the millstones two years ago was already solidly frozen, the spring not working anymore, and the icy metal biting painfully into his hurting stump.

Walking was pure agony, the pain and cold nagging at him until he could barely think anymore. Mechanically, he placed one food in front of the other, flesh and metal, until nothing but the memory of Astrid’s brightly gleaming eyes kept him going. Finally, after what must have been an eternity amidst the snow, Hiccup caught a glimpse of light ahead. The promise of warmth gave him a second wind, hope fueling his hurting limbs as he stumbling crossed the remaining distance.

_Knock - - -  knock knock - - knock - - - knock - knock - knock - knock_

Hiccup barely felt his hands anymore as he knocked their usual sign against the front door. He leaned heavily against the wood, ready to fall into the warmth inside as soon as she opened him. Dimly, he registered noises from inside, footsteps … and _voices!_ She wasn’t alone. Hiccup recognised the deep baritone of her father, and realised in an instant that he was in trouble.

Apprehensively, he waited for the door to open, for Master Hofferson’s deadly glare, and for whatever punishment the man deemed appropriate. Because there was no way he could explain away his presence at his house, in the middle of a night when his daughter had been supposed to be alone.

 _This is it then,_ he thought weirdly giddily, arms wrapped tightly around his trembling body. He’d wanted to keep the promise he’d made to his uncle, to help in his mill for three years. He’d wanted to save the money he earned there, scratching together every coin he could before he went to ask Master Hofferson for his daughter’s hand. It wouldn’t be much of a bride price regardless, but he had hope to pay him back in other ways.

But apparently, the Gods had other plans. Mentally preparing to confront his hopefully future father-in-law, Hiccup waited to be let inside, for the inescapable yelling and the chance to explain himself.

But the door didn’t open.

Seconds stretched into minutes without any further reaction from inside, making his heart sink with trepidation. Anxiously, he knocked again, louder. He could hear voices again, but that was it.

“P-please,” he gasped, his breath freezing the moment it left his mouth. “Please, open the door.” Anxiously, he glanced up at the dark sky. There was no sign to be seen that this storm might end anytime soon. All he could see was darkness, the wind whirling thick snowflakes into snow drifts as the cold crept deeper into his bones. If he stayed out here for much longer, he would _really_ freeze to death. And he didn’t want to die... he had so many plans...

Again he knocked, frantically now, and called louder, begging those inside to let him in. He knew that he’d made mistakes, had gone about all this the wrong way. He should have listened to Snot, should have stayed at the mill tonight. Odin, he should have listened to Fishlegs, shouldn’t have started this secret relationship in the first place, should have waited. Or he should have done as Astrid had suggested, should have talked to her father right away. But now, it was too late for all these options, and all he could do was wait, hoping for another chance to see her, to tell her how much he loved her. To make things right.

But even as the cold seeped away the strength in his legs and he sank to the ground, the door stayed close, unyielding.

**. o O o .**

Worrying her lips, Astrid prepared dinner for her father and herself. It wasn’t anything special, just a simple stew, something to keep them warm. Despite her general lack of any kitchen skills, this was something she could do. It wasn’t difficult or complicated, just throwing the same ingredients as always into the pot and letting them boil.

But today, even that was almost too much for her concentration.

Why, oh why, had this snowstorm come _tonight_? Thor, why couldn’t it have hit them even an hour or two later? By then her father would have been long gone, would likely have reached the town already after a hurried ride. He would have been gone and Hiccup would have been here. Everything would have been perfect.

But no, of course things weren’t that simple. The storm had come up just in time to keep her father from leaving at all, and now she couldn’t help but feel anxious.

She longed to see Hiccup, had so looked forward to this night. For two weeks now, she’d only seen him from afar a couple of times, and she missed him. She wanted him to be here, to feel him close, to listen to his voice as he painted the picture of their future.

But what would happen if Hiccup came now? What would her father say? He wouldn’t like the idea of any young man visiting her, not at all. Astrid knew that her father was relatively fond of Hiccup, had been impressed by his nimble hands as they’d built Hiccup’s prosthetic together last year. But if he showed up here without being invited? No, her father would _not_ be pleased.

And what if he didn’t come? What would that mean? It was fairly late already. Usually, Hiccup would be here by now, and she hoped that meant that he’d stayed home. That he was safe. But the storm had hit so suddenly... what if it had surprised him on his way? What if he’d gotten lost in the storm and was freezing to death right now? The thought made her heart cramp painfully, and she dropped the sharp kitchen knife she was using to slice some vegetables. With a loud _clank_ , it landed on the stone floor, making her father look up with a raised eyebrow.

“Pay more attention, lass,” he reprimanded her grumbling. “That knife is sharp enough to cut off your toes if you’re not careful. Your mother, may Hel watch over her, never was that careless.” He turned away and focused more closely on his work; with a murmur that she could tell wasn’t intended for her ears, “And here I thought with her weapon-work, she’d be more handy with a knife...”

Astrid didn’t react to his comment. She knew that her father only grudgingly accepted her _manly_ hobbies – hunting, weapon practice and the like. But she also knew that was because he feared those hobbies would put off eligible suitors. And Astrid didn’t want a husband who didn’t accept her the way she was anyway. Hiccup accepted her. He _loved_ her, not despite but _because_ of who she was. And she loved him too. His warm, lopsided smile. The way his dry comments always made her grin where others often didn’t even understand them. How he could make her knees weak with nothing but an intense look from his deep and honest eyes. Gods, how she missed him...

Turning to hide her face, she bent to pick up the knife. “Of course, Father,” she murmured dutifully. “I’m sorry, I was careless for a moment.” Forcing her conflicting emotions out of her mind, she continued with her work at hand. Yes, she missed him, but it was better if he didn’t come here tonight. At least… If he’d stayed _home_ and hadn’t gotten lost… The thought nagged at her, but there was no way she could explain why she wanted to go outside in such a storm, so looking for him was impossible.

They kept working in silence, her father polishing a piece of armour he’d finished today, until someone knocked on the door. Astrid’s heart skipped a beat as she recognised the rhythm, a melody Hiccup often hummed to her. So he’d come after all? Through this storm? Relieve filled her at knowing that he hadn’t gotten lost after all. And joy, because he was here. There was anxiety too, because she wasn’t sure how her father would react. But she didn’t let that thought deter her.

With gleaming eyes, she hurried toward the door, reaching for the heavy key that hung from a chain on the wall. But her father beat her to it.

“What’s this?” he demanded, brows furrowed as he placed his broad hand over the key, keeping her from unlocking the door. He scrutinised her, his expression turning dark as he caught her excitement. “Who is that?”

“It’s… He came to see me,” she said in a steady voice, eyes firmly on her father’s.

“Who? And _why_ is he here?” he inquired angrily, indicating toward the door with the hand that wasn’t holding the key.

 _Now or never,_ Astrid thought, and straightened her shoulders. She’d respected Hiccup’s wish to save money before he officially asked for her hand, trusted him. But now, there was no point in hiding anything any longer. The tone of her father’s question left no room for speculations; he knew exactly why Hiccup was here. But Astrid gladly took this opportunity to explain herself. “Because I asked him to. We’re in love.” It felt good to say these words out loud. Right. With a confident smile she waited for her father to understand, for his shoulders to relax, for his expression to soften into confusion, and then maybe into a smile. He liked Hiccup, she was sure of that. He wouldn’t mind him marrying her. Surely, he wouldn’t…

But his expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew even darker. With an angry growl, he snatched the key from the chain, shoved it into his pocket, and without another word returned to his work.

Baffled, Astrid gazed after him. Then she followed him in a hurry. “What are you doing?” she asked anxiously, trying to scramble for the key, to let Hiccup in. Outside, the storm was still raging, he had to be _freezing_. “Look, I know we should have told you directly. But–”

“No,” he snarled, pushing away her searching hands.

The knocking on the door came again, louder this time. Frightened, Astrid glanced in the direction of the sound and then back at her father. “Father, please. Please, let me open the door. He’ll freeze. Please, Dad, just–”

“No!” he yelled this time, standing up to tower over her, glaring down at her. “What were you thinking? You _know_ I can’t give you much of a dowry to tempt good men to marry you. All you have is your beauty and your virtue. And what do you do? You throw it away the moment some random boy woos you? I thought I’d taught you better than that.” With these words, he turned away, clearly declaring the conversation to be over.

Astrid stared at him, disbelievingly shaking her head. Did he really think–

There was more knocking, frantic now, and she could hear Hiccup’s voice through the thick wood. His words were unrecognisable, but he sounded desperate, pleading. It was tearing her apart.

“Father, please,” she begged, desperate now too. “You can’t just leave him there to die. You _can’t!_ ”

“It’s his own fault,” he grunted. “He never should have come here.” He turned away from her, arms crossed in front of him, unyielding.

Once more, Astrid glanced at the front door behind which Hiccup stood in the cold. If she didn’t open him, then he would be dead in the morning. So she made a snap decision.

With a few quick strides she crossed the room and grabbed the knife she’d used before. “Open the door,” she demanded; holding the knife with a shaking hand. “Now!”

But her father just gave her a condescending smirk. “Or what? You’d attack me? Don’t be silly.”

“No, I won’t,” she replied, voice shaking now too. And raised the knife’s edge to her neck. “Open that door, or I’ll cut open my throat.”

Under different circumstances, seeing her father’s eyes widen in surprise would have been quite a victory. But not tonight. All she felt was desperate determination. He _had_ to open that door.

“Don’t be foolish, child,” he snarled, hands raised as if to placate her. “It’s hard, but it’s the only–”

“I love him,” she blurted out, interrupting him. She was shaking all over now, her voice, her hand, her entire body. The sharp edge nicked her skin, and a small drop of blood ran down her neck. But she didn’t care. If Hiccup died tonight, then she didn’t want to live anymore either.

“Astrid, don’t be daft,” he said, more urgent now, eyes following the dark red liquid oozing from the cut. “It’s not love just because he thrust his dick into you. When he’s gone he can’t go around and tell anyone what you two did. Your reputation will stay unblemished and you’ll still have the chance to find a good husband. I even have one in mind already, I–”

“But I only want him!” she cried, angry tears clouding her vision. “And it’s not like you think at all. I’m still a virgin. He’d been here over a dozen times now, but I’m still a virgin. Hiccup’s not like that. He loves me too. We want to _marry_.”

From one second to the other, the dark expression vanished from her father’s face and got replaced by one of surprise and confusion. “Hiccup?”

**. o O o .**

Hiccup was barely conscious anymore when the door finally opened.

He registered the dim light pouring through the open door, even through his frozen-shut eyelids. He heard the frantic voice that was calling his name over and over, her sweet sweet voice, even though his mind barely took in anything else. He felt how his body got jostled, even though his skin was so numb, he barely felt anything anymore. Nothing but a pair of hot lips on his forehead, on his cheeks, his nose, his mouth. Over and over, she kissed his face, frantically calling his name.

He wanted to kiss her back, to reassure her that he was still alive, even though he wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth. She could be a Valkyrie after all, here to lead him to Valhalla. But no, he was no warrior. He didn’t deserve to fight alongside the heroes of old, wouldn’t get escorted by one of these divine warriors, so he had to be alive.

“...love you,” he mumbled weakly, the most important words, before he gave up and drifted into unconsciousness.

**. o O o .**

Astrid didn’t leave Hiccup’s side that night, not for a single moment.

She let her father carry him inside, quickly arranging furs and blankets into a makeshift bed near the hearth to warm him. Slowly, he warmed up again, the colour returned to his ashen skin, his breathing becoming more steady again. At one point, he seemed almost lucid and she managed to feed him a few spoons of the warm stew before he drifted off again.

Her father watched her from a few steps away, his expression unreadable. Astrid had no idea what he was thinking, why he’d so suddenly changed his mind, but she didn’t care either. Hiccup was safe inside their warm house, and her father didn’t object as she crawled underneath the blanket to cuddle to Hiccup’s side, using her body heat to further warm him. In fact, he didn’t say a single word at all, just watched, and when it became clear that Hiccup was out of immediate danger, he left them alone in the living room, retreating to his own bedstead for the night.

**. o O o .**

Hiccup woke only slowly.

His head felt like it was filled with wool, his joints hurting and his skin weirdly prickling, numb and somehow sensitive at the same time. It took him some minutes to understand where he was, what had happened.

He remembered the darkness and the cold, the howling wind. How tired he’d become, how all he’d wanted was to curl up and sleep. Dimly, he remembered her hands and lips on his skin, how she’d frantically rubbed his hands and his chest, had called his name. He almost wrote that part off as nothing but a dream, but then he realised where he was.

In the middle of the Hofferson’s living room, wrapped in warm furs and blankets…

With Astrid cuddled to his side, sleeping peacefully…

And Master Hofferson sitting in a chair nearby, watching them.

Inhaling sharply, Hiccup stared at the broad man for a second before he made careful attempts to detangle himself from Astrid without waking her. But Master Hofferson made a calming motion, gesturing Hiccup to stay where he was. Apprehensively, Hiccup lay back again, not daring to enjoy the comforting weight of Astrid’s head on his chest.

For several minutes, the older man just gazed at him, making him nervous, before he asked in a low voice, “For how long?”

Swallowing, Hiccup’s gaze shifted to the mess of golden hair over his shoulder, before he looked back. “For about six months. A bit more,” he croaked. Seven months, one week, and two days since she’d first kissed him, to be precise. But Hiccup doubted the other man was interested in every detail.

The blacksmith frowned. “So, when I offered you an apprenticeship a couple of months back–”

“We already were a couple, yes,” Hiccup admitted, averting his eyes. It had sounded too good to be true back then, living under the same roof with her, working together, seeing her every day.

“And yet you didn’t accept right away? Asked me for another year before you could start? Boy, I already thought you crazy back then for turning me down in favour of yet another year of working in the mill. But now, it makes even less sense.” There was an expression of suspicious bafflement and confusion on the older man’s face.

“I–” Hiccup began, but had to pause, coughing. Carefully, he shifted into another position, laying on his side with Astrid’s head now resting on his upper arm. “Back then, I wasn’t as sure about her… about _us_ as I am now,” he explained in a low voice, tenderly caressing her hair. “And I didn’t want to go behind my Master’s back for something that might turn out as nothing but an infatuation.”

“So, you thought going behind my back _before_ you became my apprentice was a better idea?” he asked, disbelievingly, and it made Hiccup squirm. Phrased like that, it sounded pretty stupid.

“If this between us hadn’t worked… then I wouldn’t have accepted your offer. I wouldn’t have burdened her with living with me if things between us had gone wrong,” he murmured, eyes resting on Astrid’s sleeping face. “And I’d planned to officially ask for her hand the day you would have taken me in.”

The man nodded, but still didn’t seem to be completely convinced. “And why didn’t you accept my offer the day you realised your feelings were true? You could have started working in the forge on any day. Astrid said you two already agreed on marrying each other, why the delay?”

Hiccup understood the question as what it was; a father making sure that his daughter’s suitor’s intentions were genuine. He could hardly begrudge that. And the answer was easy anyway. “Because I had promised my uncle to work in his mill for another season. And I tend to keep my promises,” he said calmly. “And I also wanted to gather as much of a fortune to offer as bride prize as possible.” Again, his eyes lingered on her face – on her small nose covered in freckles, on the tiny scars she’d gotten from running through the woods, and on her pink lips, turned into a relaxed smile – and he added, almost inaudibly, “She’s worth everything to me.”

After that, the other man stayed silent, and it didn’t take long before Hiccup’s eye became heavy again, exhaustion tearing at him. It should have been weird to be lying there with his beloved in his arms while her father watched them, but somehow it wasn’t. In the end, it was everything he’d hoped for after all; that Master Hofferson would accept their relationship, would welcome it even. The last thing he noticed before he drifted off into sleep once more was Astrid sighing happily as she snuggled closer against his chest, enjoying their closeness just as much as he did.

**. o O o .**

Osmond Hofferson, the beefy old blacksmith, watched fondly as the young couple in his living room went back to their well-earned sleep. Neither of them had gotten enough rest last night, and he knew very well that that was his fault. To think that he’d almost let the young man die…

Osmond sighed, and once the couple’s low breathing told him they were fast asleep once more, he stood up and quietly walked back into his small sleeping chamber. It took him a bit of rummaging about in the various shelves and trunks, but eventually, he found what he’d been looking for. It was a wooden carving, nearly two decades old now. The wood was dark, almost black even, the surface smooth. Skilled hands had carved the figure, the hands of a friend.

With a heavy heart, Osmond gazed at what once had been a gift as well as a token for a promise. A promise he’d nearly broken this night. After tugging the figure into a pocket of his warm coat, he left the house, leaving the sleeping couple alone for now. Once outside, he took a deep breath of the pristine winter air that had followed last night’s storm, and then walked up a small hill behind the forge. At its top stood an old tree with twisted branches, inviting everyone to climb them. Fond memories rose in Osmond’s mind, accompanied by a smile as the past came to life once again in his mind’s eye. But then he sobered up again as his eyes landed on the large stone he’d brought up here himself almost twenty years ago. It wasn’t a headstone as there was no grave beneath, but it still served as a reminder.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” Osmond murmured, one hand resting on the stone’s charred surface. “I almost failed you. But from now on, I’ll take better care of your boy, Stoick. I promise.”

He stayed there for a while longer, reminiscing about times long gone with the wooden figure in his hands, before he made his way back to the house. When he entered, he was greeted by cheerful chuckling and the sight of his beloved daughter as she gazed at the young man with those familiar green eyes, holding her in a loving embrace. She looked happier than he’d seen her in years, and that alone should have been enough to convince him of the man’s worthiness. It shouldn’t have needed the fact that he was the son of his lifelong best friend, or the promise he’d given on said friend’s deathbed. The fact that he was apt and had clever hands in addition to a natural talent for forge work and more intricate mechanics surely helped; a reassurance that his workshop would be in good hands. But all that really mattered was that gleam in Astrid’s eyes as they parted from a kiss. All that mattered was that she was happy.

The young couple parted quickly as they noticed him, a slight blush on both their faces as they continued to set the breakfast table. Osmond reacted with a grunt, turning away to hide his emotions. He had no doubts that it wouldn’t take long until this house was filled with life again.

As they all sat down to eat the leftover stew – which suddenly tasted much better than it had last night – Osmond placed the wooden figure on the table in front of the man. Hiccup, he reminded himself, gave it a confused look before he reached for it.

“I… know this style,” he said hesitantly, eyeing the dark wooden dragon from all sides before turning toward Osmond, frowning. “Is this–”

“Take it as an early wedding gift,” Osmond interrupted him, muttering. “From your father.”

 

 

  
  



End file.
